Shit, shit, shit. Panicked, I shoved the binder back onto the shelf and looked for somewhere better to hide. There wasn’t even a closet in this tiny office. I was screwed. And worse, I didn’t even have the contents of the binder.
“You’d think they would’ve figured out a way to run the alarm through our handhelds,” another female voice said. “So we’d know not to evacuate unless Lux told us to.”
“Dr. Hildebrand,” I heard North call. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but do you have just one more minute?” I shot to my feet. He was giving me a way out. Their voices got muffled, like they’d gone into that vacant office. I bolted from the room and dashed toward the stairwell on tiptoes, practically colliding with a man who was on his way back up. I was sitting on the stairs, turning the DVD over in my hands in defeat, when North joined me a few minutes later.
“C’mon,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “There are benches on Harvard Yard, and Ivan’s laptop has a DVD drive. Let’s see what we got.”
We had a lot, it turned out. The video started with a detailed explanation of the trial’s design from a younger, thinner Hildebrand.
“The control group will receive a placebo,” she was saying. “A nasal spray of saline solution. The test group will also receive a nasal spray.” She held up a syringe. “However, this solution contains a swarm of two thousand nano-size robots. These nanobots have been programmed to travel to the subject’s amygdala, a part of the brain involved in emotional response, where they will function like remote-controlled neurotransmitters.”
“She put nanorobots in their brains?” I said incredulously. North’s eyes were as wide as mine.
“The subjects will meet with our lead researcher for five minutes every day,” Dr. Hildebrand continued. “For what they believe is a short psychotherapy session.” She exchanged the syringe for a small black remote. I immediately recognized the G etched into its back. It was a Gnosis device. Which was weird, since Gnosis was barely off the ground in 2013. Were they somehow involved in the trial?
“At the start of each session,” Dr. Hildebrand explained, “the researcher will press a button on this remote, emitting a very short-range, very high-frequency audio signal. While this will have no impact on a control subject, in the case of a test subject, the signal will trigger the swarm to release a dose of SynOx, a synthetic and highly concentrated form of the neurohormone oxytocin.”
North pressed pause on the video. “Okay, just to be clear: She not only put robots in their brains, she screwed with their brain chemistry, without their knowledge. How is that even legal?”
Fear had taken root at the pit of my stomach. “North, what if my mom was one of her subjects? What if that’s the connection?”
“Do you want to stop watching?” he asked. “I could watch the rest of it alone.”
“No,” I said firmly, pressing the play button. “I want to see it.”
I sounded a lot more certain than I felt.
“Three minutes after the signal is sent,” Dr. Hildebrand went on, “our lead researcher will ask the subject to drink from this vial.” She picked up a bottle labeled with a skull and crossbones and the word ARSENIC.
“Poison?” I said, gaping.
“It can’t actually be poison,” North said.
“The liquid in this vial is sugar water,” Dr. Hildebrand said, as if she could hear us. “But the subject will be told by the researcher that it is, in fact, poison. By asking subjects to do something that no rational person would do, we are seeking to determine the outer bounds of human trust, and, most important, whether this boundary can be manipulated.”
“There’s no way any of them drank it, right?” I said as the words DAY ONE flashed on screen. North just shook his head.
“I don’t know which is worse,” he said. “The nanobots or the poison.”
My stomach was in knots as we watched the first day of sessions. But my mom wasn’t among the subjects, and not a single one drank the poison. The researcher said the same thing to each of them. “This vial contains a lethal dose of arsenic, which is poisonous to humans. I recommend that you drink it.” Most of the subjects laughed at the prospect. A few got angry. One stormed out.
It was like that for the first three days. The researcher would ask and the subject would refuse. But, then, on day four, something changed. Gaping at the screen, we watched as all twelve test subjects drank the contents of the vial.
“No way,” North breathed.
We were silent as we watched the next six days’ worth of sessions. The people with nanobots in their brains drank the poison every time they were asked. And most of them did it eagerly, with stupid smiles on their faces, like there was nothing they’d rather do more. No, it wasn’t actually poison in that vial. But they didn’t know that. It made my skin crawl.
When the last session concluded, I closed my eyes. Something was bugging me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“My team and I would like to thank the Theden Initiative for their generous funding,” I heard Dr. Hildebrand say, “as well as our cosponsors, Gnosis, Inc. and Soza Labs, who co-own the patents on the nanobots and the SynOx compound.”
My eyes flew open.
“Soza,” I repeated. “Why do I know that name?”
“Probably because their logo is in every drugstore window,” North replied. “They’re the ones that manufacture the flu vaccine.”
As soon as he said the word flu vaccine, something fluttered in my chest. A rush of sensation, like rock turning to sand. The day Beck had been picked for the Gold beta test, he’d been at the pharmacy getting his flu shot. A nasal spray, just like the one Hildebrand’s research subjects had been given. All of a sudden I realized what had been bothering me. The signal used to activate the nanobots was a high-frequency audio signal.
Ultrasound.
My brain filled with the popping sound we’d heard in North’s computer room. All at once I knew exactly why Beck had suddenly decided to trust Lux.
Because the nanobots in his brain were telling him to.
“Holy shit, North. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
“Whoa, simmer down there. I think you just broke the rider’s code of conduct. Four times.” He pointed at the sign on the wall. “No profanity.” We were back on the train, and I was officially freaking out.
“North,” I said, making every effort to keep my voice down. “This isn’t a joke. Soza and Gnosis are putting nanobots in people’s brains. Not just in a research study. In real life.”
“Through the flu vaccine.” North sounded skeptical. It infuriated me.
“Yes,” I hissed. “Think about it. Gnosis puts out the Gold for less than the cost of its older-generation model—a device that, for no apparent reason, emits high-frequency sound waves. Meanwhile, my best friend, who’d previously distrusted Lux as much as you do, joins the beta test for Gold and suddenly starts heeding its every command. Soza, meanwhile, for the first time ever, starts offering seasonal flu sprays for free.” I gestured around the half-full train car. Every single person in the cabin was wearing a Gold on their wrist, and every single one of them was smiling at it. “Look around!” I pointed at a girl a few rows up who was literally beaming at her handheld as she interfaced with Lux. “Does that look normal to you?”
“People do seem a little overly enamored with the Gold,” North conceded. “And, hey, I’ve always been suspicious of drug companies. And it’s awfully coincidental that Soza manufactures Evoxa, too.”